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 know 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 sort 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 black 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 over night. On Rugg's declining to stop Mr. Cutter urged him vehemently. 'Why, Mr. Rugg,' said he, 'the storm is overwhelming you; the night is exceeding dark; your little daughter will perish; you are in an open chair and the storm is increasing.' 'Let the storm
