Oh, Christmas is a season, when I long to sit alone, In some clean and quiet garret, I can really call my own; Where no Christmas Cards can reach me with their idiotic rhymes-- Where I never hear of HARRIS, and his splendid Pantomimes. Where the turkey and the goose would feel distinctly out of place, Where no pallid pie of mincemeat, dares to look me in the face; Where I don't see coloured plates from Christmas Numbers on the wall, Where, in fact, I can forget that it is Christmas-time at all! * * * * * Illustration: A REMINISCENCE. _Aunt Molly_ (_on hospitable thoughts intent_). "YOU SHALL HAVE _THIS_ BEDROOM, MIKE--THE SAME THAT YOU HAD LAST CHRISTMAS!" _Mike._ "OH, NOT _THAT_ BEDROOM, AUNT MOLLY!--IT'S CHOKE FULL OF _DREAMS_!" * * * * * THE FRENCH "SERPENTINE DANCE" OR, PAS DE PANAMA. The Minuet's cold and modish grace, Delirium of the Carmagnole, Fair France has known. How will she pace _This_ frantic dance, and to what goal? Beginning in triumphant sport, She's tremulous now, with terror cold. The whirl so dizzies, she breathes short; The serpent spirals seem to fold Laocöon-like about her limbs. Tarantula-bitten victims so Whirl madly. Shrinks her head and swims; This is not glory's ardent glow, But fever's hectic, herald sure Of dread corruption, if unstayed. Dance on the footing insecure Of the keen edge of War's red blade, Rather than this mad dervish spin, Drunk with that poison-breath; The music is the devil's din, The dance--the modern Dance of Death! * * * * * Illustration: THE FRENCH "SERPENTINE DANCE;" OR, PAS DE PANAMA. * * * * * LATEST FROM "THE GILBERT ISLANDS."--Sir ARTHUR SULLIVAN will probably stay in these islands while writing his new Opera. If successful, these islands will then be annexed by Manager D'OYLY CARTE under the style and title of "The Gilbert and Sullivan Islands." * * * * * ON A NEW YEAR'S CARD. ["With kind regards and best wishes for 1893, from Mr. and Mrs. T. BROWN-SMITH and family."] FROM TOM! It's thirty years ago Or more, since, destined to talk Tamil, he Set sail for foreign lands. And so To-day he boasts a wife and family. Yes, TOM and I were chums at school, The Matron--how we used to fool her! We broke the very self-same rule, We felt the very self-same ruler. We gladly in those classic groves Accepted all the Fates provided, And even in our school-boy loves We did not care to be divided. Three years at Cambridge--where we spent Our money, "linked in friendly tether," Three years that all too quickly went, Then _we_ went down, and went together. Next year 'twas TOM who went abroad; He vowed that he'd be married--never! But I was then engaged to MAUDE, To MAUDE, who swore to love me ever.