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and pewter-pots ; driving their carriages on the foot-pavement. It is also a favourite achievement with them to hire a carriage, if it so happen they have not one of their own, and drive through the streets of the metropolis at such speed that it is dangerous to attempt to stop them, throwing soda-water bottles against the windows of shopkeepers as they pass, or sometimes firing pellets through them with air-guns. A detachment of them, composed of silly youths, who have been spoiled for want of the horsewhip, and who are known by the names of the dousers and blinkers, take the gas-lights under their especial care, and sometimes succeed in throwing a whole parish into darkness, and putting the gas-companies to an expense of a hundred pounds for broken glass.

This is a feat which the lowest order of Mohocks can accomplish; it may be indulged in by a man who has not a penny to call his own ; but the really aristocratic Mohocks have more expen. sive amusements. They delight to go into low public houses, with cudgels in their fists, with which they break all the bottles and glasses, to the great delight of mine host, who knows he can make them pay double or treble the damage. They also take pleasure in having rum and gin served up in buckets to prostitutes and cab drivers ; and one Mohock was known to sit astride on a barrel,-naked as Bacchus, and in the position he generally occupies on public house signs, and in this trim serve out full goblets to about a score of delighted street-walkers and scamps of every degree, hob.nobbing with each until he became as drunk as the drunkest, when he rolled off his barrel, and was car. ried home to her lodgings by a sympathizing fair one.

But we have done. By such freaks as the latter the Mohocks do' themselves more injury than they do others; and rid society of their presence by a process which is agreeable to themselves, and cannot be unpleasing to their heirs. They generally die off between the ages of thirty and forty, worn out, when other people are in their prime, If we could but persuade them of this, there might be some hope that the tribe of the Mohocks, like the tribes of the Mohicans, the Pawnees, and the Delawares, would gradually disappear in the light of civilisation ; but we fear that their thoughts do not extend into the future; that present enjoyment is all their care; that they are of the number of those of whom Shakspeare sings in “ The Rape of Lucrece,”

" Who buy a minute's mirth to wail a week,

Who sell eternity to get a toy,

And for one grape would all the vine dostroy." There is but one course, perhaps, which can bring them to reason. The true Mohock has an inordinate idea of his own gentility, and his superiority to the vulgar ; and, while he can commit any offence, from slaying a man with excess of drink, to running away with a door. knocker, and meet with no worse punishment than a fine, it will be exceedingly difficult to keep him within bounds. But, show him that while his actions are such as have been described, no fine however great can buy him nff, until he has passed a few weeks at the tread. mill, and all the glory of his vocation will disappear. Ladies who now smile on the man of spirit, who has bullied a magistrate, and paid five pounds, will turn coldly from him who has had his hair cropped, and worn the livery of the house of correction. • A fine, harum. scarum fellow,"_" a youth of mettle,"_" a delightful, high-spirited

young man,” will be terms no more applied to such as he, but he will be designated even by the fair, who now affect to admire him, as nothing better than a blackguard after all.

THE GRAVE.

FROM THE GERMAN OF ROSEGARTEN.

FEARFUL is the Grave :

Cold winds round it knelling,
Misty showers swelling,

Grief and Terror make their dwelling
In the silent Grave.

Lonely is the Grave :

Soft doth that stillness call,
Cooler the shadows fall,

Deepest Peace is whispering all
In the quiet Grave.

Dismal is the Gravo :

Irksome is that narrow wall !
Its breadth, and length, and depth, and height,
Just seven paces bound them all.
Dismal is the Grave.

Lovely is the Grave,

A sweet defence its narrowness ;
From the ever-wearying press,
From the juggling pageant proud,
From the fools in motley crowd,

Shields us well that narrow shroud.
Lovely is the Grave.

Dismal is the Grave,-
Its darkness blacker than the night,
Through which no sunbeam glances bright,
Not a star may ever gleam,
Or the softer moonlight stream;
Dark and dreadful is the Grave.

Lovely is the Grave,

Its shadow flinging
O’er the weak wanderer, and refreshment bringing ;
While its cool breast

Lulls the hot weary pilgrim to his rest :
Lovely is the Grave.

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368

A LEGEND OF PUCKASTER,

ISLE OF WIGAT.

BY ABRAHAM ELDER, ESQ.

John Kann was a labouring man, living in the parish of White. well; and, in the good old times, when fairies danced, was said to have been particularly favoured by them. This was a matter of con. siderable importance at the time, for he lived in a neighbourhood where they were most numerous and active.

Mr. Puck himself, as it was very well known at the time, used frequently to hold his court, and lead his midnight revels on a spot by the sea-side not above a mile from his house. It was a wild un. cultivated place, covered with rocks, and bogs, and holes, and briers. It was generally known when he was at home by a small light being seen dancing about at midnight over the rough ground. This the neighbours used to call“ Friar Rush's lantern," or "Puck's little star:" the latter name, however, was the most common.

Amidst all this wilderness of rocks, bogs, and briers, there was, however, one place where the turf was extremely smooth and level; and persons passing that way by daylight used to observe those circu: lar marks in the grass, which are everywhere known by the name of fairy rings.

One day a neighbour of John Kann's said to him, “ John, I am going to build myself a house. Come, and I will show you where. It is the prettiest, loveliest spot that ever was seen !"

Where do you think he took him to? To the very place where the grass was so smooth and soft, and where the fairy rings were always

“Gracious me !” said John Kann. “You are not going to build here ! Are you not afraid of Puck's little Star ? By St. Radegundt you are making a fool of me!”

“ I'm not making a fool of you at all,” said he ; “but, the fact is, now that I am going to be married, I must get a house of my own to live in; besides this would be a nice healthy place for the children when they come.”

seen.

* Burton, in his Anatomy of Melancholy, tells us that “terrestrial devils are those lares, genii, fauns, satyrs, wood-nymphs, foliots, fairies, Robin Goodfellows, trulli, &c., whieh, as they are most conversant with men, so they do them much harm. These are they that dance on heaths and greens, as Lavater thinks with Trithemius, and as Olaus Magnus adds, leave that green circle which we common. ly find in plain fields. They are sometimes seen by old women and children. Hieron. Pauli, in his description of the city of Bercino, in Spain, relates how they have been familiarly seen near that town, about fountains and hills. “ Sometimes," saith Trithemius, " they lead simple people into the recesses of the mountains, and show them wonderful sights, &c.” Giraldus Cainbrensis gives instance of a monk of Wales that was so deluded. Paracelsus reckons up many places in Germany where they do usually walk about in little coats, some two feet long.-See Anato. my of Melancholy, 15th ed. p. 124.

+ St. Radegund appears to have been the patroness saint of Whitewell. There was anciently a chapel dedicated to her there.

“ But ain't you afraid of Puck ?”

“ Not at all,” he answered. " Puck never hurts an honest industrious fellow like me. We have always been very good friends, and I have no doubt but that we shall continue so."

“And whom do you suppose the land belongs to ?” asked John Kann.

Why, it's just waste land, and is of no use to anybody; and the manor belongs to the Lisle family. They would never grudge a poor man's building a cottage there.”

“ That spot,” said John Kann,“ no more belongs to the Lisles than it belongs to me. It belongs to Mr. Puck ; and you think it would be a nice place for your children, do you? Do you know what happens to children that are born on fairy ground ?”

"No."

“ Why then, I will just tell you. The fairies give them gin to prevent them growing any bigger, and then carry them off, and put an old wizen fairy in their place. I have known the thing happen often and often before. That child of Sukey Grundle’s, you know, that was always crying and squealing, that was never her child at all, but just an old fairy. Her own little darling is no doubt at this moment doing the dirty work for some of the queer creatures in fairy-land, scrubbing, and dusting, and slaving, and feeding their pigs, and, no doubt, getting a whop on the head every now and then with a broomstick ; and, I will tell you what ; it's of no use your settling here, just for the pur. pose of providing for your family by getting your children apprenticed out to the fairies. It's no saving at all, for they always leave one of their own sort, that eats twice as much, and is, besides, very mis. chievous, in its place. You had better not interfere with Puck's little star.”

Well, John Kann's neighbour took his advice ; and, moreover, asked John to his wedding-feast, which took place a day or two afterwards. John passed a very merry evening ; and it was late and very dark before he started to return home. There were no roads in this part of the island in those days; so finding one's way home at night was not always an easy matter. Luckily, however, for John, a friend of his, who lived near, had started just before with a lantern, and John followed the light, which was some way on before him, singing to him. self as he went along. Up-hill and down-hill

, over rough and smooth, John Kann followed the light : but, somehow or other, he did not recognise any part of the road as he went along. Maybe the ale was strong, and I am a little fuddled like, though I do not feel so," thought he to himself. “ Maybe, all this time I have been following a wrong person with a lantern." However, it was of no use stopping then, as he did not at all know where he was ; so he followed on, and on,

and The ground grew rougher, sometimes up-hill, sometimes down-hill amongst brambles, and rocks, and holes, but there was a firm good path under his feet all the while. When, all of a sudden, a new idea flashed across his mind. “Maybe it's Puck's little star that I have been walking after all this while. What fun !” thought he to himself.

At length the light seemed to stand still, and John Kann walked up to it. However, as he came nearer, the light seemed to grow paler and smaller; and, when he got close to it, it was no bigger or brighter

on.

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