Excerpt from The Residuary Legatee, or the Posthumous Jest of the Late John Austin

On the morning of August 14th, in this last Summer, Mr. Austin May alighted at the little Cypress Street station of the Boston Albany & Railroad, and, accompanied only by a swarthy and adroit valet, and a very handsome St. Bernard dog, got into the somewhat antiquated family "carryall" which awaited him, and drove away. May was a stranger to the man in charge of the station, as well as to the wide-awake trio of boys who made it a sort of club, their exchange of gossip, and pleasure resort, and thus his arrival was unnoticed and unrecorded, though his last absence had extended over a period of several years.

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