I thanked them for their courtesy, but when I strove to rise, No muscle of my rigid frame could I, to my surprise, As much as put in motion. My bones seemed on the rack, And to my chalet's fire-side had to be carried back. 'Twas long ere I recovered my wonted life and strength; The tourists oft would visit me, and we grew friends at length. And the day of my recovery, to mark the grand event, I started in their company to make a great ascent. My mountain days are over now, my friends in other climes; But when we meet together we talk of bygone times. But still the name of _Glacier_ for ever doth recall The horrors of that fearful night, within that icy hall. And at their friendly tables I'm often asked to dine. They order "Vin du Glacier," as well as other wine, And ask me if it tastes as well, as o'er their wine they sing, As that from out the cellars of H.M. the Glacier King. Hardly had the poet concluded his lay, when the cheering and clapping of hands that ensued half-deafened all present; that is to say, with the exception of two individuals--_viz._, the worthy captain and our friend the comedian, who had been deaf for some time past, under the kindly influences of the punch. To say that the health of the poet was drunk with three times three would be unnecessary. We leave that to the imagination of the reader. Not only was that conventional ceremony gone through, but the chairman, after a short complimentary speech, proposed that a crown of laurels should be made and the young poet crowned therewith there and then. The poet modestly interposed, but the command of the president, especially on such an occasion as the present, was not to be recalled. John Hearty, of the "Headless Lady," was sent outside, snowing hard as it was, to gather some laurel from a bush which grew close to the inn, and the poet was crowned with all due honours. There were two, however, who did not witness the imposing ceremony. Who these two were we will leave our readers to guess. The fumes of the punch had thrown the ideas of these two worthies into another channel, and the reverie into which they had fallen was so deep as to render them perfectly unconscious of all that was going on around them. The captain was the first to recover from his meditations. "Ease her! Stop her!" he cried, awaking with a yawn. Then, glancing round at the company, his eye first caught sight of the poet's brow crowned with laurels. "Odds bobs, messmate!" he cried, "what the deuce have they been doing to your figurehead?" "Ah! captain," said one of the members, "you do not know what you have lost. You've missed a song." "Missed a song, have I? Well, I thought someone must have been singing; it came in my dream. But what, in the name of Davy Jones, has Mr. Parnassus been taking. Why, one would think he had been taking a glass of prussic acid, to break out all over laurel leaves like that."