Then Peter set up such a yell !—

The nurse, who with some water gruel Was climbing up the stairs, as well As her old legs could climb them-fell And broke them both-the fall was cruel

The Parson from the casement leapt
Into the lake of Windermere-
And many an eel-though no adept
In God's right reason for it-kept
Gnawing his kidneys half a year.

And all the rest rushed through the door,
And tumbled over one another,
And broke their skulls.-Upon the floor
Meanwhile sat Peter Bell, and swore,

And cursed his father and his mother;

And raved of God, and sin, and death,
Blaspheming like an infidel;

And said, that with his clenched teeth,
He'd seize the earth from underneath,
And drag it with him down to hell.

As he was speaking came a spasm,

And wrenched his gnashing teeth asunder Like one who sees a strange phantasm He lay, there was a silent chasm

Betwixt his upper jaw and under.

And yellow death lay on his face;

And a fixed smile that was not human
Told, as I understand the case,
That he was gone to the wrong place:-

:

I heard all this from the old woman.

Then there came down from Langdale Pike A cloud, with lightning, wind and hail;

It swept over the mountains like

An ocean, and I heard it strike

The woods and crags of Grasmere vale.

And I saw the black storm come
Nearer, minute after minute;
Its thunder made the cataracts dumb;
With hiss, and clash, and hollow hum,
It neared as if the Devil was in it.

The Devil was in it :-he had bought

Peter for half-a-crown; and when

The storm which bore him vanished, nought That in the house that storm had caught Was ever seen again.

The gaping neighbours came next day—
They found all vanished from the shore:
The Bible, whence he used to pray,
Half-scorched under a hen-coop lay;
Smashed glass-and nothing more!

PART THE SECOND.

THE DEVIL.

THE DEVIL, I safely can aver,

Has neither hoof, nor tail, nor sting;

Nor is he, as some sages swear,

A spirit, neither here nor there,
In nothing-yet in everything.

He is what we are; for sometimes
The Devil is a gentleman;
At others a bard bartering rhymes
For sack; a statesman spinning crimes;
A swindler, living as he can;

A thief, who cometh in the night,

With whole boots and net pantaloons, Like some one whom it were not right To mention ;-or the luckless wight, From whom he steals nine silver spoona.

But in this case he did appear

Like a slop-merchant from Wapping, And with smug face, and eye severe, On every side did perk and peer

Till he saw Peter dead or napping.

He had on an upper Benjamin
(For he was of the driving schism)
In the which he wrapt his skin
From the storm he travelled in,
For fear of rheumatism.

He called the ghost out of the corse ;-
It was exceedingly like Peter,—
Only its voice was hollow and hoarse-
It had a queerish look of course--
Its dress too was a little neater.

The Devil knew not his name and lot, Peter knew not that he was Bell: Each had an upper stream of thought, Which made all seem as it was not; Fitting itself to all things well.

Peter thought he had parents dear,
Brothers, sisters, cousins, cronies,
In the fens of Lincolnshire;
He perhaps had found them there
Had he gone and boldly shown his

Solemn phiz in his own village;

Where he thought oft when a boy He'd clomb the orchard walls to pillage The produce of his neighbour's tillage, With marvellous pride and joy.

And the Devil thought he had,
'Mid the misery and confusion

Of an unjust war, just made
A fortune by the gainful trade
Of giving soldiers rations bad-

The world is full of strange delusion.

That he had a mansion planned

In a square like Grosvenor-square,
That he was aping fashion, and
That he now came to Westmoreland
To see what was romantic there.

And all this, though quite ideal,—
Ready at a breath to vanish,-
Was a state not more unreal
Than the peace he could not feel,

Or the care he could not banish.

After a little conversation,

The Devil told Peter, if he chose, He'd bring him to the world of fashion By giving him a situation

In his own service-and new clothes.

And Peter bowed, quite pleased and proud, And after waiting some few days

For a new livery-dirty yellow

Turned up with black-the wretched fellow Was bowled to Hell in the Devil's chaise.

PART THE THIRD

HELL.

HELL is a city much like London-
A populous and a smoky city;
There are all sorts of people undone,
And there is little or no fun done;

Small justice shown, and still less pity.

His wits, or sold them, none knows which; He walks about a double ghost,

And though as thin as Fraud almost

Ever grows more grim and rich.

There is a Chancery Court; a King
A manufacturing mob; a set

Of thieves who by themselves are sent
Similar thieves to represent;

An army; and a public debt.

Which last is a scheme of paper money,
And means-being interpreted-
"Bees, keep your wax-give us the honey,
And we will plant, while skies are sunny,
Flowers, which in winter serve instead."

There is great talk of revolution

And a great chance of despotisınGerman soldiers-camps-confusionTumults-lotteries--rage-delusion

Gin-suicide-and methodism.

Taxes too, on wine and bread,

And meat, and beer, and tea, and cheese,
From which those patriots pure are fed,
Who gorge before they reel to bed
The tenfold essence of all these.

There are mincing women, mewing,
(Like cats, who amant miserè,*)
Of their own virtue, aud pursuing
Their gentler sisters to that ruin,
Without which-what were chastity.+

Lawyers-judges-old hobnobbers

Are there-bailiffs-chancellors-
Bishops-great and little robbers-
Rhymesters-pamphleteers--stock-jobbers-
Men of glory in the wars,-

Things whose trade is, over ladies

To lean, and flirt, and stare, and simper,
Till all that is divine in woman

Grows cruel, courteous, smooth, inhuman,
Crucified 'twixt a smile and whimper.

Thrusting, toiling, wailing, moiling,
Frowning, preaching-such a riot!
Each with never-ceasing labour,
Whilst he thinks he cheats his neighbour,
Cheating his own heart of quiet.

And all these meet at levées ;-
Dinners convivial and political ;—
Suppers of epic poets;-teas,
Where small-talk dies in agonies;-
Breakfasts professional and critical;

Lunches and snacks so aldermanic

That one would furnish forth ten dinners,

Where reigns a Cretan-tongued panic,

Lest news Russ, Dutch, or Alemannic

Should make some losers, and some winners

One of the attributes in Linnæus's description of the Cat. To a similar cause the caterwauling of more than one species of this genus is to be referred;-except, indeed, that the poor quadruped is compelled to quarrel with its own pleasures, whilst the biped is supposed only to quarrel with those of others.

What would this husk and excuse for a virtue be without its kernel prostitution, or the kernel prostitution without this husk of a virtue? I wonder the women of the town do not form an association, like the Society for the Suppression of Vice, for the support of what may be called the King, Church, and Constitution" of their order. But this subject is almost too horrible for a joke.