[Footnote 2: A sister countryman,--a bull is excusable when discoursing of bulls,--on seeing the monster at the Museum, exclaimed, "Faith! the great Dan himself couldn't repale _that_ union, at all, at all, _after_ 'twas once put together." Some suppose this bull to be typical of a foreign John Bull, the head representing the Crown, the fine feathers the Lords, and the rest the Commons.] Notwithstanding all this, the author has the pleasant satisfaction of most respectfully assuring his readers, on the authority of the last Yezidi _Moniteur_, that the amicable relations of this country with the Yezidi government are not in the slightest danger of being disturbed by this little book; and that John Bull is, at present, in no jeopardy of being swallowed up by those monstrous distant cousins of his, of whom Mr. Layard has brought home the above-mentioned speaking likenesses. 1, Adam Street, Adelphi. [Illustration] ST. DUNSTAN AND THE DEVIL. [Illustration] [Illustration] "And it is for trouth reported, that where this signe dothe appere, there the Evill Spirite entreth not."--SERMON ON WITCHES. "Your wife's a witch, man; you should nail a horse-shoe on your chamber-door."--REDGAUNTLET. [Illustration] ST. DUNSTAN AND THE DEVIL. In days of yore, when saints were plenty, (For each one now, you'd then find twenty,) In Glaston's fruitful vale, Saint Dunstan had his dwelling snug, Warm as that inmate of a rug, Named in no polished tale. The holy man, when not employed At prayers or meals, to work enjoyed With anvil, forge, and sledge. These he provided in his cell, With saintly furniture as well; So chroniclers allege. The peaceful mattock, ploughshare, spade, Sickle, and pruning-hook he made, Eschewing martial labours. Thus bees will rather honey bring, Than hurtfully employ their sting In warfare for their neighbours. A cheerful saint too, oft would he Mellow old Time with minstrelsy,-- But such as gave no scandal; Than his was never harp more famed; For Dunstan was the blacksmith named Harmonious by Handel. And when with tuneful voice he sang, His well-strung harp's melodious twang Accompaniment lending; So sweetly wedded were the twain, The chords flowed mingled with the strain, Mellifluently blending. Now 'tis well known mankind's great foe Oft lurks and wanders to and fro, In bailiwicks and shires; Scattering broad-cast his mischief-seeds, Planting the germs of wicked deeds, Choking fair shoots with poisonous weeds, Till goodness nigh expires. Well, so it chanced, this tramping vagrant, Intent on villanies most flagrant, Ranged by Saint Dunstan's gate; And hearing music so delicious, Like hooded snake, his spleen malicious Swelled up with envious hate. [Illustration]