fairly finished!

[_Left hard at it._

[Illustration: THE SNOW MAN.]

* * * * *

[Illustration: A DISTINCTION AND A DIFFERENCE.

_Mr. Wilkins._ "BEG PARDON, SIR POMPEY, BUT COULD YOU TELL ME
WHO THAT YOUNG GEN'L'MAN IS YOU JUST TOOK OFF YER 'AT TO?"

_Sir Pompey_ (_pompously_). "HE'S NOT A GENTLEMAN AT ALL,
WILKINS. HE'S A NOBLE LORD--THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD VISCOUNT
SPEEDICUTTS--A FRIEND OF MINE."

_Mr. Wilkins._ "INDEED, SIR POMPEY! BUT, I S'POSE _SOME_ OF
'EM'S GEN'L'MEN, SOMETIMES?"]

* * * * *

Great consternation at hearing of the arrest of "M. BLONDIN" in
connection with the Panama scandals. Of course there can be only _one_
BLONDIN, and some wiseacres at once applied the proverb about "Give
him enough rope," &c. But BLONDIN never fell. It was quite another
BLONDIN. The Hero of Niagara was not the Villain of the Panama
piece--if villain he turn out to be. BLONDIN is still performing;
always walking soberly, though elevated, on the rope that is quite
tight. Maybe the rope gets tighter than ever at this jovial period,
but BLONDIN, _the_ BLONDIN, our BLONDIN'S acts are in the sight of
everybody, his proceedings are intelligible to all, though far above
the heads of the people.

***

Still, whatever financial accident may have happened to M. BLONDIN, he
has always kept his balance--on the rope.

* * * * *

TO CHLORINDA.

(_With a Fan._)

[Illustration]

All in your glory you to-night
Will dance, and me they don't invite
Your charms to scan;
And, as a seal might send its skin
To please the girl it may not win,
I send a fan.

Behind this fan some other man
Your hand will hold;
Your fearless eyes, so bright and brown,
Will hide their gladness, glancing down,
No longer cold.
And your pale, perfect cheek will take
That colour for another's sake,
I ne'er controlled,--
Yet, ere you sleep, stray thoughts will creep
To days of old.

Of old! For in a single day,
When love first gilds a maiden's way,
The world grows new;
And from that new world you will send
Sweet pity to the absent friend
Who so loved you.

Loved--for my love will wither then;
I cannot share with other men
The dear delight
That dwells in your austerest tone,
That latent hope of joys unknown--
Though