THERE was a man, once upon a time, and within the memory of several old people now living, who was bent upon catching Will-o'-theWisp, or, as it is sometimes called, Peg-withher-lantern. Nobody but himself believed he could do this; but he was himself quite sure he could accomplish it; and whenever he had an extra glass of ale, he was always ready to set out on the expedition. It happened, therefore, one night, as he came from Denby, a village in Derbyshire (the village where Flamstead, the astronomer, was born,) not remarkably sober, and yet steady enough to keep his ground, he resolved to make the attempt. What he meant to do with Peg when he caught her, I do not know; perhaps he did not exactly know him.

On

self; nor am I sure that he had any idea what sort of a thing she would prove; but mystery, some people think, makes things more interesting, and so, I suppose, it was in his case. he went, therefore, towards some old fish-ponds, where there was a long and wide morass; and immediately, as if fortune would favour him, he descried the object of his desire, glimmering out before him. Off he went, floundering and plunging like a wild horse, through bog and over bush; but when he had reached the spot, she had vanished, and again gleamed out before him like a little spark, at the distance of a hundred yards. But as he expected to have some trouble in taking her, he was not to be easily daunted, and vowing to make sure of her at last, off he went again. Peg, however, as wild and nimble as her brother Jack-o'-lanthorn, had set off again as far away to the right-hand. To the right therefore he went; but when he got there, through bush, through brake, off she had skipped away to the left, and he, nothing dismayed, went off, like a bold hunter, in that direction. Peg now seemed in a much quieter and steadier humour, and the nearer he came the brighter she gleamed and glimmered-now, for a moment, dimming herself, then again shining out

clearer than ever.

Our pursuer, certain of the

prize, threw off his coat, which had somewhat impeded his motions, and chuckling to himself over the prize he was about to win, sprang forward with outstretched arms to seize her, uttering an exultant shout of "Now I have you!" and plunged his arms up to his shoulders in a peat fire.

ANECDOTE II.

OF A RAVEN THAT WENT TO A FAIR.

THERE was, some fifty years ago, a cunning and mischievous raven, named Ralph, kept at a lonesome farmhouse in Derbyshire. He was a great favourite with all the family, though he often created much annoyance and trouble by his thievish tricks. Whatever came in his way, which was not too heavy for him to lift, he carried off; yet, though every one knew who was the thief, he seldom came in for punishment, the servants and different members of the family being blamed instead, for leaving things in his way. Notwithstanding the care, how

ever, which every body took to put things in their places, Ralph found many a little article of which he made prize, and many a one which was never missed at the time.

After Ralph had practised his thievery, and indulged his habit of secretiveness for some years, all his hoard came one day suddenly to light. He had buried it in, as he thought, a cunning hole that he had made in the thatched roof of a barn. His treasures grew and grew, and the hole had been deepened and deepened, till it was as deep as the thatch itself, and then all his accumulation fell through upon the barn floor. And what a wonderful accumulation there was!-thimbles, small pieces of money, balls of cotton, knitting-needles, curtain-rings, one or two gold rings, a brooch, sleeve-buttons, two salt-spoons, a mustard-pot lid, a seal and the gold-setting of a seal, combs, little old housewives, pincushions, buckles, hair pins, and all the multitude of small things that abound in the houses of tolerably well-conditioned people. There was a world of amusement in the owning of Ralph's treasury, and many an old forgotten. thing was brought to light, and many another was found of which nobody could give any

account.

The winter after this event poor Ralph came to an untimely end. The travelling tailor who used to come now and then to the house, to make and mend the clothes of the family, had made him, of scarlet cloth, a comb and wattles, like those of a chanticleer, which he allowed to be put on and seemed to wear with as much pride as a young soldier wears his new uniform. Not long after being thus accoutered, there chanced to be a fair in the neighbourhood, and, as several members of the family went to it, Ralph saw no reason why he might not go also. Off, therefore, he flew after them, and, arriving in the height of the fair, perched upon the roof of a house which stood in the centre of the bustle. The poor fellow had all his bravery on, and was immediately descried, every body taking him for some wonderful bird, and every body being desirous of securing him.

Unfortunately, a man with a gun was at hand, and, to make sure of so strange a creature while he was within reach, fired at him, and poor Ralph and his bravery fell together. Hardly had he reached the ground, when his old friends of the farm came up with a crowd that had been drawn to the spot by the firing of the gun, and in the strange nondescript creature, they in