"A singular song having greeted my toes, I stared till I weakened the sight of my nose To see what it was, and observed a sweet voice Come forth from the ears of Lucinda, so choice.

"I cast a cough-drop in the lovely one's eyes, Who opened her hands in a tone of surprise, And remarked, in a way that startled my wife, 'I never was treated so ill in my life.'

"Then tears in a torrent coursed over her arms, And the blush on her teeth much heightened her charms.

As, tossing the cough-drop straight back, with a sneeze, She smashed the green goggles I wear on my knees."

Jimmieboy laughed so long and so loudly at this poetical effusion that he attracted the attention of the guards, who immediately loaded their guns and began to pepper the invaders with snow-b.a.l.l.s.

"Throw yourself down on your stomach in the toe of the golosh,"

whispered the voice, "and they'll never know you are there. Keep perfectly quiet, and when any questions are asked, even if you are discovered, let me answer them. I can disguise myself so that they won't recognize me, and they'll think I'm your voice. In this way I think I can get you through in safety."

So Jimmieboy threw himself down in the golosh, and the voice began to sing.

"No, no, my dear, I do not fear The devastating snow-ball; When it strikes me, I shriek with glee, And eat it like a dough-ball."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "HALT!" CRIED THE ICE-GUARDS.]

"Halt!" cried the ice-guards. "Who are you?"

"I am a haunted overshoe," replied the voice. "I am on the foot of a phantom which only appears at uncertain hours, and is consequently now invisible to you.

"And, so I say, Oh, fire away, I fear ye not, icicles; Howe'er ye shoot, I can't but hoot, Your act so greatly tickles."

"Shall we let it through?" asked the Captain of the guards.

"I move we do," said one High Private.

"I move we don't," said another.

"All in favor of doing one thing or the other say aye," cried the Captain.

"Aye!" roared the company.

"Contrary-minded, no," added the Captain.

"No!" roared the company.

"Both motions are carried," said the Captain. "We will now adjourn for luncheon."

The overshoe, meanwhile, had floated on down through the gates and was now out of the guards' sight and Jimmieboy sprang to his feet and looked about him once more, and what he saw was so beautiful that he sat speechless with delight. He was now in the heart of Frostland, and before him loomed the Palace, a marvelously ma.s.sive pile of richly carven ice-blocks transparent as gla.s.s; and within, seated upon a throne of surpa.s.sing brilliance and beauty, sat King Jack surrounded by his courtiers, who were singing songs the like of which Jimmieboy never before had heard.

"Now remember, Jimmieboy," said the voice, as the overshoe with its pa.s.sengers floated softly up to the huge snow-pier that ran out into the river at this point where they disembarked--"remember I am to do all the talking. Otherwise you might get into trouble."

"All right, Voicy," began Jimmieboy, and then there came a terrific shout from within.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "WHO COMES HERE?"]

"Who comes here?" cried King Jack, rising from his throne and pointing his finger at Jimmieboy.

"I am a traveling minstrel," Jimmieboy seemed to reply though in reality it was the kind-hearted voice that said it. "And I have come a thousand and six miles, eight blocks, fourteen feet, six inches to recite to your Majesty a poem I have written in honor of your approaching Jubilee."

"Have I a Jubilee approaching?" roared Jack, turning to his Secretary of State, who was so startled that his right arm melted.

"Y--yes, your Majesty," stammered the Secretary, with a low bow. "It is coming along at the rate of sixty seconds a minute."

"Why have I not been informed of this before?" roared Jack, casting a glance at the cowering Secretary that withered the nose straight off his face. "Don't you know that Jubilees are useful to a man only because other people give him presents in honor of the event? And here you've kept me in ignorance of the fact all this time, and the chances are I won't get a thing;--for I've neglected my relatives dreadfully."

"Sire," pleaded the Secretary, "all that you say is true, but I have attended to all that. I have informed your friends that the Jubilee is coming, and they are all preparing pleasant little surprises for you. We are going to give your Majesty a surprise party, which is the finest kind of a party, because you don't have to go home after it is over, and the guests bring their own fried oysters, and pay all the bills."

"Ah!" said Jack, melting a little. "You are a good man, after all. I will raise your salary, and send your children a skating-pond on Christmas day; but when is this Jubilee to take place?"

"In eight hundred and forty-seven years," returned the voice, who did not like the Secretary of State, and wanted to get him in trouble. "On the eighty-second day of July."

"What--a--at?" roared the King, glaring at the Secretary.

"I didn't say a word, sire," cried the unfortunate Secretary.

"No?" sneered Jack. "I suppose it was I that answered my own question, eh? That settles you. The idea of my waiting eight hundred and forty-seven years for a Jubilee that is to take place on an impossible date! Executioner, take the Secretary of State out to the furnace-room, and compel him to sit before the fire until there's only enough of him left to make one snow-ball. Then take that and throw it at the most decrepit hack-driver in my domain. The humiliation of this delayer of Jubilees must be complete."

The Secretary of State was then led weeping away, and Jack, turning to the awed Jimmieboy, shouted out:

"Now for the minstrel. If the poem pleaseth our Royal Coolness, the singer shall have the position made vacant by that unfortunate snow-drift I have just degraded. Step right up, young fellow, and turn on the poem."

"Step up to the foot of the throne and make a bow, and leave the rest to me," whispered the voice to Jimmieboy. "All you've got to do is to move your lips and wave your arms. I'll do the talking."

Jimmieboy did as he was bade. He took up his stand before the throne, bowed, and the voice began to declaim as Jimmieboy's lips moved, and his arms began to shoot out, first to the left and then to the right.

"This poem," said the voice, "is in the language of the Snortuguese, and has been prepared at great expense for this occasion, fourteen gallons of ink having been consumed on the first stanza alone, which runs as follows:

"Jack Frigidos, Jack Frigidos, Oh, what a trope you are!

How you do shine And ghibeline, And conjugate afar!"

"It begins very well, oh, minstrel!" said Jack, with an approving nod.

"The ink was well expended. Mount thee yon table, and from thence deliver thyself of the remnant of thy rhyme."

"Thanks," returned the voice; "I will."

"Get up on the table, Jimmieboy," the voice added, "and we'll finish 'em off there. Be a little slow about it, for I've got to have time to compose the rest of the poem."

So Jimmieboy clambered up the leg of the table, and in a few moments was ready for the voice to begin, which the voice proceeded to do.

"I will repeat the first verse, your Majesty, for the sake of completeness. And here goes:

"Jack Frigidos, Jack Frigidos, Oh, what a trope you are!

How you do shine, And ghibeline, And conjugate afar!

"How debonair Is thy back hair; Thy smile how contraband!

Would I could ape Thy shapely shape, And arrogate thy hand!