--------“On an Ash-Wednesday, When thou didst stand six weeks the _Jack o’ Lent_, For boys to hurl three throws a penny at thee.” So, likewise, in Beaumont and Fletcher’s “Tamer tamed:” -------“If I forfeit, Make me a _Jack o’ Lent_, and break my shins For untagg’d points and counters.” Further, in Quarles’ “Shepheard’s Oracles,” 1646, we read: “How like a _Jack a Lent_ He stands, for boys to spend their Shrove-tide throws, Or like a puppet made to frighten crows.”[72] From the “Jack o’ _Lent_,” we derive the familiar term among children, “Jack o’ _Lanthorn_.” [72] Brand’s Popular Antiquities. * * * * * ~Shrove Tuesday~ AND ~Ash Wednesday.~ The copious particulars respecting these festivals, which have been brought together in another place,[73] admit of some addition. In France and other parts of the continent, the season preceding Lent is universal carnival. At Marseilles, the Thursday before Lent is called _le Jeudi gras_, and Shrove Tuesday _le Mardi gras_. Every body joins in masquerading on these nights, and both streets and houses are full of masks the whole night long. The god of fritters, if such a god there be, who is worshipped in England only on Shrove Tuesday, is worshipped in France on both the Thursday and Tuesday. Parties meet at each other’s houses to a supper of fritters, and then set off masquerading, which they keep up to a very late hour in the morning. On Ash-Wednesday, which has here much more the appearance of a festival than of a fast, there is a ceremony called “interring the carnival.” A whimsical figure is dressed up to represent the carnival, which is carried in the afternoon in procession to Arrens, a small village on the sea-shore, about a mile out of the town, where it is pulled to pieces. This ceremony is attended in some way or other by every inhabitant of Marseilles, whether gentle or simple, man or woman, boy or girl. The very genteel company are in carriages, which parade backwards and forwards upon the road between the town and the village, for two or three hours, like the Sunday processions in Hyde-park. Of the rest of the company, some make parties to dine at Arrens, or at the public-houses on the road; others make water parties; but the majority only go and walk about, or sit upon the rocks to see and be seen. It was one of the most delightful evenings imaginable; the air was inexpressibly mild; the road where the carriages parade is about half way up the rocks, and this long string of carriages constantly moving, the rocks filled with thousands and thousands of spectators, and the tranquil sea gilded by the setting sun, and strewed over with numberless little barks, formed altogether one of the most beautiful and picturesque scenes that could be presented. We sat down on a little detached piece of rock almost encircled by the sea, that we might have