ublimity, is at
least distinguished by much truth. He said he composed it at the rate
of about one line a week during the winter, and his comrades said that
it was quite a picture to see him agonising over the rhymes. Before
they found out what was the matter with him they thought he was becoming
subject to fits of some sort. Now, then, let's have a good chorus.
It's to the tune of `The British Grenadiers.'"

THE WORLD OF ICE AND SNOW.

Come listen all good people who dwell at home at ease,
I'll tell you of the sorrows of them that cross the seas
And penetrate the wilderness,
Where arctic tempests blow--
Where your toes are froze,
An' the pint o' your nose,
In the world of Ice and Snow.

You've eight long months of winter an' solitude profound,
The snow at your feet is ten feet deep and frozen hard the ground.
And all the lakes are solid cakes,
And the rivers all cease to flow--
Where your toes are froze,
An' the pint o' your nose,
In the world of Ice and Snow.

No comrade to enliven; no friendly foe to fight;
No female near to love or cheer with pure domestic light;
No books to read; no cause to plead;
No music, fun, nor go--
Ne'er a shillin', nor a stiver,
Nor nothin' whatsomediver,
In the world of Ice and Snow.

Your feelin's take to freezin', so likewise takes your brain;
You go about grump-and-wheezin', like a wretched dog in pain;
You long for wings, or some such things,
But they're not to be had--oh! no--
For there you are,
Like a _fixed_ star,
In the world of Ice and Snow.

If you wished you could--you would not, for the very wish
would die.
If you thought you would--you could not, for you wouldn't
have heart to try.
Confusion worse confounded,
Would aggravate you so--
That you'd tumble down
On the frozen ground
In the world of Ice and Snow.

But "never-give-in" our part is--let British pluck have sway
And "never-say-die," my hearties--it's that what wins the day.
To face our fate in every state,
Is what we've got to do,
An' laugh at our trouble
Till we're all bent double--
In the world of Ice and Snow.

Now all ye sympathisers, and all ye tender souls;
Ye kind philanthropisers, who dwell between the poles,
Embrace in your affections
Those merry merry men who go--
Where your toes are froze,
An' the pint o' your nose,
In the world of Ice and Snow.

It almost seemed as though the