THE TRUTH ABOUT THE COLD-TUBBER.

He had read of the frigid fanatics who tub In a pool in the Park through the ice, So he took a rough towel his body to scrub, He sped to the Park,—quite avoiding the Pub,— He stripped in a blizzard, Which pierced to his gizzard. And shrivelled his skin till he looked like a lizard, Plunged, shuddered, shrank, stammered, "How n-n-n-n-ice!" But when through the laurels I happened to glance, I found he was—doing the Serpentine Dance, With a stiff frozen towel, ten paralysed toes, And an unripe tomato in place of a nose!