Lots Eighty-two to Ninety, Some sets of Outer Walls. Lot Ninety-one, The Furniture of a Grand Ducal Room, Including Chair and Table. Lot Ninety-two, A Tomb. Lot Ninety-three, A set of Kilts. Lot Ninety-four, A Rill. Lot Ninety-five, A Scroll, To form death-warrant, deed, or will. Lot Ninety-six, An ample fall of best White Paper Snow. Lot Ninety-seven, A Drinking-cup, brimmed with stout extra tow. Lot Ninety-eight, A Set of Clouds, a Moon, to work on flat; Water with practicable boat. Lot Ninety-nine, A Hat. Lot Hundred, Massive Chandelier. Hundred and one, A Bower. Hundred and two, A Canvas Grove. Hundred and three, A Tower. Hundred and four, A Fountain. Hundred and five, Some Rocks. Hundred and six, The Hood that hides the Prompter in his box. WONDERS OF THE VICTORIAN AGE. PUNCH. Our gracious Queen--long may she fill her throne-- Has been to see Louis Napoleon. The Majesty of England--bless her heart!-- Has cut her mutton with a Bonaparte; And Cousin Germans have survived the view Of Albert taking luncheon at St. Cloud. In our young days we little thought to see Such legs stretched under such mahogany; That British Royalty would ever share At a French Palace, French Imperial fare: Nor eat--as we should have believed at school-- The croaking tenant of the marshy pool. At the Trois Freres we had not feasted then, As we have since, and hope to do again. This great event of course could not take place Without fit prodigies for such a case; The brazen pig-tail of King George the Third Thrice with a horizontal motion stirr'd, Then rose on end, and stood so all day long, Amid the cheers of an admiring throng. In every lawyer's office Eldon shed From plaster nose three heavy drops of red. Each Statue, too, of Pitt turn'd up the point Of its proboscis--was that out of joint? While Charles James Fox's grinn'd from ear to ear, And Peel's emitted frequent cries of "Hear!" TO THE PORTRAIT OF "A GENTLEMAN," IN THE ATHENAEUM GALLERY. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. It may be so--perhaps thou hast A warm and loving heart; I will not blame thee for thy face, Poor devil as thou art. That thing, thou fondly deem'st a nose, Unsightly though it be,-- In spite of all the cold world's scorn, It may be much to thee. Those eyes,--among thine elder friends Perhaps they pass for blue;-- No matter,--if a man can see, What more have eyes to do? Thy mouth--that fissure in thy face By something like a chin,-- May be a very useful place To put thy victual in. I know thou hast a wife at home, I know thou hast a child, By that subdued, domestic smile Upon thy features mild. That wife sits fearless by thy side, That cherub on thy knee; They do not shudder at thy looks, They do not shrink from thee. Above thy mantel is a hook,-- A portrait once was there; It was thine only ornament,-- Alas! that hook is bare.