The terrors of that blasted brow,
Archangel's once, -though ruin'd now-

-Ay,-dar'st thou face THE DEVIL?"

"I dare!" the desperate Youth replied, And placed him by that Old Man's side,

In fierce and frantic glee,
Unblench'd his cheek, and firm his limb
-" No paltry juggling Fiend, but HIM!
-THE DEVIL!-I fain would see!-

"In all his Gorgon terrors clad,
His worst, his fellest shape!" the Lad
Rejoined in reckless tone. -
-"Have then thy wish!" Agrippa said,
And sigh'd and shook his hoary head,
With many a bitter groan.

He drew the mystic circle's bound,
With skull and cross-bones fenc'd around;
He traced full many a sigil there;
He mutter'd many a backward pray'r,

That sounded like a curse"He comes!"-he cried with wild grimace, "The fellest of Apollyon's race!"-Then in his startled pupil's face

He dash'dan EMPTY PURSE!!

One more legend, and then, gentle Reader, "A merry Christmas to you and a happy New Year!"We have travelled over many lands together, and had many a good-humoured laugh by the way; if we have, occasionally, been "more merry than wise," at least we have not jostled our neighbours on the road, -much less have we kicked any one into a ditch.

So wishing you heartily all the compliments of the season, and thanking you cordially for your good company, I, Thomas Ingoldsby, bid you heartily farewell, and leave you in that of

SAINT MEDARD.

A LEGEND OF AFRIC.

"Heus tu! inquit Diabolus, hei mihi! fessis insuper humeris reponenda est sarcina; fer opem quæso!"

"Le Diable a des vices ;-c'est là ce qui le perd. -Il est gourmand. Il eut dans cette minute-là l'idée de joindre l'âme de Medard aux autres âmes qu'il allait emporter. -Se rejeter en arrière, saisir de sa main droite son poignard, et en percer l'outre avec une violence et un rapidité formidable, c'est ce que fit Medard. Le Diable poussa un grand cri. Les âmes délivrés s'enfuirent par l'issue que le poignard venait de leur ouvrir, laissant dans l'outre leurs noirceurs, leurs crimes, et leurs méchancetés," &c., &c.

IN good King Dagobert's palmy days,

When Saints were many, and sins were few,

Old Nick, 'tis said, Was sore bested
One evening, and could not tell what to do. -

He had been East, and he had been West,

And far had he journey'd o'er land and sea;

For women and men

Were warier then,

And he could not catch one where he'd now catch

three.

He had been North, and he had been South,

From Zembla's shores unto far Peru,

Ere he fill'd the sack Which he bore on his back

Saints were so many, and sins so few !

The way was long, and the day was hot:
His wings were weary; his hoofs were sore;
And scarce could he trail His nerveless tail,
As it furrow'd the sand on the Red Sea shore!

The day had been hot, and the way was long;
-Hoof-sore, and weary, and faint, was he;

He lower'd his sack, And the heat of his back, As he lean'd on a palm-trunk, blasted the tree !

He sat himself down in the palm-tree's shade,
And he gazed, and he grinn'd in pure delight,
As he peep'd inside The buffalo's hide
He had sewn for a sack, and had crammed so tight.

For, though he'd " gone over a good deal of ground," And game had been scarce, he might well report

That still, he had got A decentish lot,

And had had, on the whole, not a bad days

sport.

He had pick'd up in France a Maître de danse, -
A Maîtresse en titre, -two smart Grisettes,

A Courtier at play, - And an English RouéWho had bolted from home without paying his debts.

-He had caught in Great Britain a Scrivener's clerk,
A Quaker, a Baker, -a Doctor of Laws, –

And a jockey of York- But Paddy from Cork "Desaved the ould divil," and slipp'd through his claws!

In Moscow a Boyar knouting his wife

-A Corsair's crew, in the Isles of Greece

And, under the Dome Of St. Peter's at Rome, He had snapp'd up a nice little Cardinal's Niece.

He had bagg'd an Inquisitor fresh from Spain-
A mendicant Friar-of Monks a score,

A grave Don, or two, And a Portuguese Jew, Whom he nabb'd while clipping a new Moidore.

And he said to himself, as he lick'd his lips,

"Those nice little Dears!-what a delicate roast!

-Then, that fine fat Friar, At a very quick fire, Dress'd like a Woodcock, and serv'd on toast!"

-At the sight of tit-bits so toothsome and choice
Never did mouth water more than Nick's;

But, alas! and alack! - He had stuff'd his
sack

So full that he found himself quite "in a fix:"

For, all he could do, or all he could say,
When, a little recruited, he rose to go,

Alas! and alack! - He could not get the sack

Up again on his shoulders "whether or no!"

Old Nick look'd East, Old Nick look'd West,
With many a stretch, and with many a strain,

He bent till his back Was ready to crack,
And he pull'd, and he tugg'd, -but he tugg'd in vain.

Old Nick look'd North, Old Nick look'd South;
-Weary was Nicholas, weak and faint,-

And he was aware Of an old man there,
In Palmer's weeds, who look'd much like a Saint.

Nick eyed the Saint, -then he eyed the Sack-
The greedy old glutton!-and thought, with a grin,