"Cheer up, O Skaterman! Never say die!" says I. "Cheer up, my hearty!"--so Tried I to comfort him, Slapping his back, whereby Coughed he like anything, Forth went my heart to him, Lent him my wipe, I did, Dried his poor nose and eyes, Sitting aside of him Holding his hand. "Hark to the Skald!" I says, "Tell him what's up with thee; Thor of the Hammer will Come to thine aid!" Then spake the Skaterman, Rumbling with muttered oaths Deep in his diaphragm, Grumbling at Thor: "Blow Thaw and Scald!" he cried; "Blow heverythink!" he cried, Salt tears a-rolling down Alongside his nose. "See these here 'Hacmes,' Sir, New from the Store they are, Never been used afore, Twelve-and-six thrown away! Friga the Frigid came, Friga, great Odin's wife, Bound up the river-gods, Laid out an icy floor Mete for the Skaterman. Then I began to hoard. Weekly and weekly hoard, All of my saving to Buy these here things-- Came Thaw, the thunder-god, Brake up the Ice-bound stream-- Twelve-and-six thrown away, That's what's the matter, Sir-- Thaw, he be blowed!" Then, with a wild shriek, he Upped with his knobby stick, Smote on the Acme steel, Smote with a mighty stroke, Smote it and broke it up Into small flinderkins, Banged it and smashed it up Into smithereens. Shocked, then I left him there, Grumbling at Thor! _Punch's Almanack_, 1884. Another long parody of the same original was contained in _Punch_, September 20, 1879. It was entitled "A Modern Saga," and consisted of nine verses, describing Professor Nordenskiöld's travels and discoveries concerning the North-East passage. * * * * * It is now a good many years since a well-known American author, Mr. Bayard Taylor, produced a clever little book, entitled "Diversions of the Echo Club." The late Mr. John Camden Hotten published it in London, and it has since gone through several editions. The scheme of the book is thus given by the author:--"In the rear of Karl Schäfer's lager-beer cellar and restaurant--which everyone knows, is but a block from the central part of Broadway--there is a small room, with a vaulted ceiling, which Karl calls his _Löwengrube_, or Lions' Den. Here, in their Bohemian days, Zoïlus and the Gannet had been accustomed to meet, discuss literary projects, and read fragments of manuscript to each other. The Chorus, the Ancient and young Galahad gradually fell into the same habit, and thus a little circle of six, seven, or eight members came to be formed. The room could comfortably contain no more: it was quiet, with a dim, smoky, confidential atmosphere, and suggested Auerbach's Cellar to the Ancient, who had been in Leipzig.