Part II., p. 74 (App. p. lv.) _As ~Moss~ caught his Mare.

Not having had space at command, when giving a short Addit. Note on p. 408 of _M. D. C._, we now add a nursery rhyme (we should gladly have given another, which mentions catching the mare “Napping up a tree”). Perhaps the following may be the song reported as being sung in South Devon:—

_~Moss~ was a little man, and a little mare did buy,_ _For kicking and for sprawling none her could come nigh;_ _She could trot, she could amble, and could canter here and there,_ _But one night she strayed away—so ~Moss~ lost his Mare._

_~Moss~ got up next morning to catch her fast asleep,_ _And round about the frosty fields so nimbly he did creep._ _Dead in a ditch he found her, and glad to find her there,_ _So I’ll tell you by and bye, how ~Moss~ caught his mare._

_Rise! stupid, rise! he thus to her did say,_ _Arise you beast, you drowsy beast, get up without delay,_ _For I must ride you to the town, so don’t lie sleeping there,_ _He put the halter round her neck—so ~Moss~ caught his mare._

As that prematurely wise young sceptic Paul Dombey declared, when a modern-antique Legend was proffered to him, “I don’t believe that story!” It is frightfully devoid of _ærugo_, even of _æruca_. It may do for South Devon, and for Aylesbury farmers over their “beer and bacca,” but not for us. The true Mosse found his genuine mare veritably “napping” (not dead), up a real tree.

In John Taylor’s “_A Swarme of Sectaries and Schismatiqves_,” 1641, his motto is (concerning Sam Howe lecturing from a tub),

_The Cobler preaches and his Audience are_ _As wise as ~Mosse~ was, when he caught his Mare._