have thus the honour of offering to your lordship,
we will now withdraw, wishing your lordship
long life and health, and many a pleasant
ride under that arch on Constitution-hill which
will henceforth be always associated with your
proudest triumphs and your most glorious
achievements.

We are, &c. &c.
(Signed)

There! I've come to the end of the space at
my disposal, and can say no more; but if you'll
only send me another big book—say Hansard's
Debates—I'll annotate it with suggestions by
the dozen.

By-the-by, does it strike you, or any of your
readers, that Oliver Goldsmith was at all
mad?

THE LABOURS OF THOR.

BEING A NORSE LEGEND FROM THE PROSE EDDA.

THE path to the giants' country
Lies o'er a broad deep cliff-bound sea,
Through forest and swamp, o'er fell and moor,
And waste, and barren, stony and poor;
None since the earliest days of yore
Have crossed that sea, or stood on that shore,
Yet Thor once by a magic clue
Traversed it seeking deeds to do.

There was the city; it stood on a plain
Treeless and open to wind and rain.
The walls rose up and met the stars
But its gates were guarded with triple bars.
Thor, he wrestled with beam and bolt,
Gave many a twisting angry jolt,
But in vain. So then, as a weasel creeps,
Between the stalks of the wheatsheaf heaps,
He angrily slipped; how the wise god's thought
All Loki's barriers set at nought.

He found the palace, 'twas vast and high,
With golden turrets that clove the sky,
And seeing a door wide open stand,
He entered, and saw the giant band
Seated on benches around the hall,
And Loki throned above them all.

They gravely bowed, but the king austere,
Cried, frowning, "Who is this stripling here?
The warrior Thor? let him merit his fame
By doing some deed that is fitting his name."

Loki of Utgard, that wily king,
Smiled at Thor's angry challenging,
But he arose, and his giant race,
And came to a broad and level place,
Then called to Hugi, one of his train,
To race with Thor on that grassy plain.
Tears of rage were in Thor's fierce eyes,
He ran as fast as the swallow flies,
But as the arrow the bird o'ertakes,
Swifter than fire in the dry grass brakes,
Hugi outran him and reached the place,
Then turned and met Thor face to face.
"Bravely lost," cried Loki then,
"But Hugi is fleeter than gods or men."

"Bring me a drinking-horn," cried Thor,
"I challenge you giants, one or a score."
Loki called for a walrus horn,
Thor looked at it with angry scorn.
"Bold drinker," said Loki, "now drain that cup,
In two good draughts you should toss it up.
The veriest woman, it seems to me,
Could drain that goblet in two or three."

'Twas a simple horn, long tapering,
A mere poor unshaped rustic thing.
The god was thirsty, and raised the horn
To his eager lips with a savage scorn.
A long deep draught he fiercely took,
Never stopping to breathe or look;
But still when he set the goblet down
(And Loki smiled at his wrathful frown),
The liquor lessened never a whit;
Three draughts he took, but scarce a bit
The cup was emptier; breathless, worn,
Thor gave back the giants' horn.

"Why, fie," quoth Loki, "no prize of mine
Will to day be clutched by those hands of thine."

"Try me again," quoth angry Thor,
"Try me, ye giants, with one feat more;
Though Utgard Loki may mock and laugh,
I drank a draught that no god could quaff."
"Try him," cried Loki, with crafty eyes;
"Bring him that cat our children prize.
Let us see you lift it, mighty Thor,
Though scarce so strong as we held you for.''
While he spoke a large grey cat sprang in,
Whining, and purring, and struggling.
Thor took the cat in his cruel clasp,
And clutched its fur with a tiger grasp.
He strained, and grappled, and clutched each limb,
But that cat was still stronger far than him.

"Ha! Thor," cried Loki, " 'tis as I thought,
The cat is stalwart, and you are nought."

"Little or big," said Thor, "I see
None who will dare to wrestle with me
Now I am wroth;" then Loki cried,
"I see none here but would tame thy pride.
Let somebody call that poor old crone,
Elli, my nurse, she will quell thee alone."

A toothless hag, with bleared red eyes,
Came hobbling in; she was old and bent,
She stared at Thor with a feigned surprise,
And lower upon her crutch she leant.
Tighter Thor held her, firmer she stood,
Firm as the oak-tree in the wood;
And she twined and grappled him slowly down,
Till at last, in spite of curse and frown,
He fell on one knee. Then the crone laughed out,
And the hall-roof shook with the giants' shout.

The next day, Utgard Loki, elate,
Led Thor out of the city gate.
Baffled and chafed was mighty Thor,
Never had he been fooled before.

"Nay," said Loki, "then know 'twas I
Who baffled thy force with my subtlety.
A cloud of magic was over thee thrown;
All those spells were mine alone.
What wonder that thou wert set at nought
By Hulgi the runner, for Hulgi was Thought!
No wonder that thou wert laughed to scorn
For failing to drain that mighty horn,
For its one end reached the bottomless sea,
A pretty draught, O Thor, for thee.
Midgard serpent that cat of ours
Foiled thy rage and thy fiercest powers.
Old Age was that lean and crippled crone,
By whom thou wert all but overthrown.