Behold these regions of eternal ice and snow—miles upon miles of frozen real estate. There is a great ice monopoly here. All, all is blank; except the ship over in this corner. She is a prize. This is the place to buy thermometers; you'll generally find them going very low. The weather in this region is mostly day and night, but rather irregularly divided between the two.

You see these people with rough beards and red shirts, looking like New York firemen? You take one to be MOSE? You are right—they are Esquimaux. They are a tough, and hardy race. Though not precisely students, they yet consume the midnight oil—chiefly as a beverage.

This great work is the combined production of thirteen artists; twelve of them, perishing in the attempt, were handsomely buried at our expense; and the survivor is now keeping a bar, for his own consumption, at St. Paul, Minnesota. He was compelled to lay aside the brush, which accounts for the water in this corner not being frozen, as the contract stipulated. But this allows the ship to which I referred to float comfortably.

These small buildings are settlements. They are not so frequent here as in New York or Chicago, where business men inform me they occur about as often as—once in two years.

"Ice cream for sale," on this sign, has a flavor of civilization in it.

Woman does not go to the poles here, although one of them is only a few miles distant in a northerly direction, with excellent sleighing.

I would make a passing allusion to this figure, introduced by artist number nine, to please the young people. It represents a Spitsbergen lover. He is clad in fur, and has a catarrh. He is just now oh his sneeze, warbling hoarsely: "Rein deer in this bosom!"

(Sentimental strains from the melodeon.)

THE GRAND CANAL

This is not the Erie Canal, but the Grand Canal of Venice. It does not own so many mules, or forward so much corn and flour, as the New York concern, but is more airy and picturesque. It is surrounded by palaces; but what is a palace without a mother?

These swan-like men-of-war are gondolas. Our skipper is called a gondolier. Every other skipper is called something worse than that if he gets in our skipper's way. I respect a man's calling; that is, if he follows it up energetically.

The Rialto, with its busy throngs.

The Bridge of Sighs, where Lord Byron is said to have stood on either hand.

A group of native beggars. This man is blind. With this Venetian blind we beg leave to close this scene.

SARSFIELD YOUNG.

The Flesh-pots or Paris

A late newspaper item states as follows:—

"The Archbishop of Paris has given permission to use horse-flesh on fast days."

It is lucky for Mr. BONNER'S crack horses, then, that they are not stabled in Paris just now, since they are all considered first-rate for Fast days.

"SOAP"-STONES.—Wall street "rocks."

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Punchinello, Volume 2, No. 36, December 3, 1870

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WINTER IN SPITSBERGEN

THE GRAND CANAL

The Flesh-pots or Paris

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